


Observations

by pissedoffeskimo



Series: All We Have [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1567016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedoffeskimo/pseuds/pissedoffeskimo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of the boys growing up at the Roadhouse.  (overall series is Sam/Dean)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2009.

Sam looked down at his homework again and bit the end of his pen before flipping back through his History book and marking the answer. Okay, ten more to go and then he had to wash dishes before the evening rush.  
  
Ellen smiled at him from where she was checking the beer taps, making sure they didn't need to bring anymore up from the cellar. "How's it going over there?"  
  
He shrugged, "History."  
  
"Is that good or bad?"  
  
Sam shifted on the stool, his legs bent uncomfortably thanks to his growth spurt. "Okay. I like history, but the school books are kind of boring."  
  
Ellen nodded knowingly, "Maybe this weekend Dean can take you into town and you can get something more interesting."  
  
Like magic, Dean's voice filtered in through the kitchen from the back hallway, "I'm not driving his ass half an hour so he can geek out!"  
  
"Dean Winchester, you will do what I say, or you'll be doing toilet duty next week, too."  
  
"Damnit!"  
  
"And what did I say about that mouth of yours?"  
  
Sam snickered as he wrote down the next answer for his homework. Usually Jo cleaned the bathrooms out and Dean was delegated to heavy lifting, but early that week Ellen had caught Dean trying to sneak out at three in the morning. That in itself wouldn't have been so bad, but the string of curse words that flew from Dean's mouth as the two of them yelled at each other had been.  
  
Some of the more choice phrases that Sam and Jo had overheard as they hunkered under his window, included: "You are such an overbearing _bitch_ , Ellen. I'm twenty-two, I don't need your goddamned permission. I'll leave the fucking house anytime I damn well please," and, "Fuck you!" which wouldn't have been so bad, except Jo and Sam had kept count and he'd said it twenty-three times in only fourteen minutes.  
  
For that, Dean got toilet duty and Jo had to haul bottles of beer and other supplies from the basement. Not that Jo was complaining. In fact, for the past two days she'd been laughing her ass off anytime Dean couldn't hear her.  
  
Ellen stood up, wiping her hands. "We're low on Miller."  
  
Then, because Dean never could learn his lesson, "It's shit anyway."  
  
"Dean!" Ellen put the rag down and stormed into the kitchen. "You keep that up and Jo's getting tonight off."  
  
That was two strikes. One more and Ellen would live up to both those threats and probably a few others. She usually did and sometimes Sam had to wonder if Dean didn't enjoy it or something, because there wasn't any other reason for him to goad her like that.  
  
The door opened and Sam half glanced up, but it was only Kay, so he looked back at his homework, disinterested. Kay was, as Dean put it, five-foot-eleven of Xena Warrior Princess. She'd do just about any job that was vicious enough to put up a good fight and, according to Dean, that included men. Not that Dean had ever slept with her, because he said he wasn't into the whole pain during sex thing, thank you very much. Sam just figured Kay wasn't interested.  
  
From the corner of his eye, he tracked her as she made her way immediately to the bar, holding her hand out. "Morning, Ellen."  
  
Ellen took it, smiling like she always did. "Four in the afternoon is hardly morning."  
  
"It is when you got up twenty minutes ago. You got any coffee?"  
  
"Sure. Dean, get some coffee out here!"  
  
Much to Sam's surprise, there was only the barest hint of grumbling in response.  
  
"Thanks. So, I was stopping by to see what you could make of this."  
  
Sam forced himself not to move, but he lifted his eyes, watching through his bangs as a folder was passed to Ellen. "What is it?"  
  
"Murder down south. I think there's more to it, but..."  
  
Ellen gave her a reassuring nod. "I'll get Ash on it. You want to stay the night?"  
  
Kay nodded, "Thanks, Ellen."  
  
"I'll be right back." Ellen patted Kay's hand.  
  
She went through the door and Sam quickly looked back down before Kay could realize he was watching her. From his peripheral, he saw Kay turn to face the room, her elbows on the top of the bar behind her. She looked around for a minute before her eyes finally slid over to Sam.  
  
There was a short pause and Sam could practically feel her looking him over. The last time he'd seen her had been months ago, well before his most recent growth spurt. A smile spread over her face and she turned to him, "Hey, kid."  
  
He looked up. "Hi."  
  
Kay bit her lower lip, glancing at the kitchen door before taking the seat next to him, giving him an easy, laid back smile, "What are you doing?"  
  
Sam lifted his book up, flashing the cover before setting it back down. "History. Dean says it's a waste, but... I kind of like it."  
  
"Well," Kay grabbed the book, her eyes scanning over the page briefly, "What Dean doesn't know could fill a library."  
  
"I heard that, Kay!"  
  
Sam bit his tongue to keep from laughing, but Kay didn't seem impressed. "Good, then hear this - where's my coffee?"  
  
The swinging door opened and Dean stormed out, slamming a mug onto the counter, sloshing hot coffee over the brim, before storming out again and back to the bathrooms. Ellen had said he had to bleach them, that it was long overdue. Sam figured it was just an excuse to up his punishment. He also figured Dean was lucky she wasn't making him paint the walls and polish the hardware.  
  
Kay wagged her eyebrows at Sam. "So, Sam, what else do you like?"  
  
"English and math, computer science, everything really. Except maybe art. I'm not really into art, but there aren't a lot of options here. I could have taken Drama, but Dean would have had a coronary."  
  
Kay chuckled, putting a hand on his leg. "You'll love college, then. There are enough options to make your head spin."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. Psychology and Sociology and History, if you can believe that."  
  
"Really? As electives?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." The hand squeezed his leg before letting go and Kay slid the History book back towards him. Sam couldn't help grinning, despite himself. It was hard to picture Kay going to college, but then Jo had gone for a year and he hadn't been able to picture that either.  
  
Kay's legs splayed a little wider, her knee touching his as she returned his grin. "Have you given any thought to what you'll study while you're there?"  
  
Sam blushed, looking down at his homework and hurriedly filling in an answer further down the page. "Not really." He forced himself not to look at the window to the kitchen, because he already knew Dean wouldn't be there, but that didn't mean he wasn't listening.  
  
He hadn't said anything about college to Dean. Ever since Jo had gone for that year, he'd been thinking about it. Part of him thought maybe he owed it to Dean to stay there and take up Hunting, but the other part… well, the other part knew he wasn't nearly as good at it as Dean was and he didn't really like it. Then there was the money. Ellen gave him weapons and stuff, but Dean refused to ask for cash, even if he needed it for gas and food on the road, not to mention when he needed parts for the Impala. So, maybe if Sam worked hard and got a good job, he could help, maybe…  
  
Kay interrupted his thoughts by waving a hand in front of his face and he blinked, blushing. "Sorry."  
  
Her hand fell back onto his leg, higher up on his thigh and she was still smiling at him, kind of quirked up on one side, like there was something more to it, but he wasn't sure what.  
  
The kitchen door opened and Ellen came back through, stopping when Kay hastily removed her hand and pulled her leg away from Sam's. Ellen stared at them for several long moments that left Sam feeling like maybe he'd done something wrong, even if he wasn't sure what it was. Finally, she turned to Kay. "Ash says he'll have something for you by tomorrow. Sam, honey, go finish your homework at the house."  
  
She hadn't even looked at him, so Sam was pretty sure he wasn't the one in trouble. Picking up his things, he gave Kay a parting nod before heading toward the hall that led to the backdoor and he couldn't hear what Ellen was saying to Kay, but he figured it couldn't have been nice, because Kay's ears were already turning bright pink.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
Dean was twenty-two and that was plenty old to be serving alcohol, but Ellen insisted she'd trained him up as a waiter and she wasn't about to put over five years to waste. Sam wasn't technically legal to serve alcohol, but if there was one thing Ellen had learned about Sam, it was that he could smile his way out of anything.  
  
Last year, the school counselor had found out that Sam was working at the bar and had come by to give Ellen a talking to. Sam had been only fifteen, handing out beers when she'd walked in. Ellen could have handled it herself, but Sam just smiled at the woman and talked to her in his too-adult voice, with his too-adult logic.  
  
"Oh, it's not a big deal, Ms. Hawthorn. Aunt Ellen makes sure I get my homework done and go to bed before ten. She's great, really, without her I'm not sure where I'd be. She kept me and Dean together, you know, when our Dad went missing. You know about that, right? I was nearly eleven and Dean was sixteen, but she didn't complain, just took us in, gave us a room together and stuffed us full. I think working the bar a few nights out of the week is the least I can do. Right?"  
  
That and Sam's winning smile and Ms. Hawthorn had melted into the same puddle of goo that Ellen had and would see many girls and women fall into. Sam was just that good. Not that he knew it and thank god for that, because the last thing she needed was another Dean.  
  
Ellen eyed Dean from across the bar, where he was smirking at a pretty blonde in tight jeans and a worn tank top that showed the straps of her fire-engine-red bra. "Hey, Michelle, how's it going?"  
  
Jo rolled her eyes and took the tray of beers, bussing them out while Dean chatted with Michelle about the heat and, oh, Michelle was going to community college until she got picked up by one of the cheerleading scouts. Any day now. Ellen knew where this was going.  
  
For the past two years, anytime a hunter came into the Roadhouse, Dean turned up the charm with any available lady that wasn't carrying an assault rifle. Today, the hunter was Brandon Carlyle, here to pick up a file Ellen had told him about and until he left, Dean was going to half ass his job and probably sneak out back to make out with Michelle.  
  
Damn Caleb and his talk all to hell. The only thing he'd accomplished was putting fear in the boy that everyone was gonna think he was gay and, worse yet, now that Ellen knew the reason for Dean's odd behavior, she couldn't even blame him. If the kid wanted to flirt with pretty girls to keep up an image he didn't even believe in himself, well, who was she to stop him?  
  
The tricky part, however, was getting him to do it on his own time. "Dean, talk less, work more."  
  
Dean nodded to Ellen, winked at Michelle and left to get back to work. With its connection to Hunters, the Roadhouse usually stayed pretty busy starting at three in the afternoon and stretching to past midnight. Right then, it was rounding on ten in the evening and time for Sam to get ready for bed.  
  
"Sam, get out of here."  
  
Sam looked at the crowd, specifically at the tart in the red bra staring at Dean's ass, and tried his puppy dog eyes. "I'm not tired. I could stay another hour or two."  
  
Ellen raised an eyebrow, "Or you could do as you're told and go to bed. Now get."  
  
"Fine." Sam gave her a hug before leaving, nodding at Dean. Ellen didn't miss the glare Sam shot at Michelle before he left. Honestly, she didn't know what the hell she was going to do with that boy.  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
Stupid, backwater, no brain, blonde, _tramp_. Sam kicked at the dirt, shoving his hands in his pockets. Why did Dean have to flirt with her anyway? It wasn't like he liked her.  
  
Diverting his path, he went behind the weapon's shed instead. At least Jo had been family. Michelle was some nothing little wanna-be cheerleader who thought she was going to make it into the professionals just because she had big breasts and could do the splits.  
  
He kicked the tin wall behind him and leaned against it. It shouldn't matter that Dean was flirting with her, but...  
  
"Sam?"  
  
Kay came around the corner and Sam pushed away from the wall, standing straight. He'd hit a growth spurt in the last year and was as tall as Dean now, putting him just an inch or two above Kay. Standing up, those two inches seemed to make a real difference. He kind of felt like he was towering over her.  
  
She smiled up at him and he slouched a little, self conscious that someone nearly twenty years older than him was shorter. What if he got even taller? What if he got taller than Dean? He had a mental image of Dean tormenting him for years, holding things just out of his reach, and suddenly, being taller than Dean didn't seem like such a bad thing.  
  
"Hi, Kay."  
  
"What are you doing out here? I thought Ellen sent you to your room."  
  
Sam shrugged, "Just wanted to be alone for a while."  
  
"Oh." Her smile didn't falter, even if she sounded a little disappointed. "Do you want me to go?"  
  
He shook his head. "No! I didn't mean... you can stay."  
  
She relaxed against the shed, her thumbs hooked in her cargo pants and after a moment, Sam leaned back again, letting himself relax. "Sorry about that. I just... it's been a rough day."  
  
Kay nodded and put her hand on Sam's shoulder. "Wanna tell me about it?"  
  
Sam could feel himself blushing and silently thanked whoever was listening that it was dark out. "I don't know."  
  
"Hm." A minute of silence stretched into two and Sam was just about to excuse himself. Ellen might decide to check if he was really in bed and it wasn't like he was doing this to disobey her or anything, he just hadn't wanted to deal with anyone, not even Ash, right now.  
  
"Is it about Dean?" Dark or not, she must have been able to see his stunned expression, because her next words were, "You don't have to tell me, but... you know, not sure what you had against that little blonde in there, but if looks could kill, she would have gone up in a puff the moment she smiled at him. I was half convinced you were gonna jump the bar."  
  
Oh, god. If she'd noticed, others might have too and what was he going to say? How did you cover that up?  
  
Fortunately, Kay did it for him. "I get it, though. She's not good enough for your brother, but then I don't think anybody would be."  
  
He sighed in relief, not realizing how tense he'd been until his muscles started to unwind. "Yeah."  
  
"You two are real close. I like that. Family's important, Sam, but Dean can take care of himself. He's a big boy." Her hand squeezed his shoulder. "So are you."  
  
Wait a minute. He looked over at her hand, but it was creeping around to the back of his neck and Sam found himself staring at her arm, which led to her face and she was smiling more softly than he'd ever seen her smile before. "You know, I'll bet there isn't a girl good enough for you, either. Least not in Dean's eyes, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't have one."  
  
He wasn't sure what to say to that, so he didn't say anything.  
  
"Can I be honest with you, Sam?" He nodded, dumbstruck by the low purr in her voice. "I've been watching you pretty close this last year. You've done a lot of growing up."  
  
Her hand brushed up against his leg and he had a flash of that afternoon — of her hand on his thigh and he hadn't really thought anything of it, because he hadn't realized it was a possibility. She pushed her thumb through the belt loop of his jeans and his brain stuttered. He opened his mouth, but closed it quickly, because he wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he was pretty sure it would come out gibberish. Then, slowly but surely, she pulled him down those impossibly long two inches, into a soft kiss.  
  
It wasn't Sam's first kiss, but he hadn't had a whole lot of others and mostly it was this one girl in his grade that he'd sort of dated, except he didn't really like her that way. Kay, though, wasn't a girl, she was a woman and she had a lot more experience than Anna-Beth. When Kay's tongue swept over his lips, he opened his mouth and she may have been shorter and smaller in most respects, but as she pushed him back against the wall, he knew who was in control of this.  
  
He could have pushed her away. All he'd have had to do was say ‘stop,' really, and she would have. She certainly gave him the opportunity. She worked her tongue in his mouth, gripped the back of his head, rubbing the top of her thigh over his quickly hardening cock and asked him, "You okay with this?"  
  
Sam thought about saying no. This wasn't exactly the kind of thing he'd ever pictured himself doing and especially not with someone like Kay. The few times he'd had fantasies about women, they were his age and flat-chested, short, and skinny - not full figured, curvy, tall, and muscular. Only, Kay kind of reminded him of Dean. Not in the way she looked or anything, because god knows, Dean didn't have breasts or long flowing brown hair and he didn't go around pushing Sam against walls and grinding against him until he was short of breath and unable to form complete sentences. All those things aside, Kay was cocky, self-assured, she never showed her emotions, she lived to hunt, and she was damn good at it.  
  
Slowly, Sam moved his hands around her back, one cupping her ass, the other playing along the base of her spine and Kay smiled up at him, kissing him again and moaning. She moved off his mouth, biting at his neck instead and Sam felt incredibly awkward. What was he supposed to do now?  
  
"So, uh... why do you... I mean, Dean said you like rough men." His voice cracked embarrassingly over the word men as she bit particularly hard just under his ear.  
  
"Like I said, what Dean doesn't know could fill a library." Kay worked her hand between their bodies, wrapping it around Sam's jean covered and suddenly very interested dick. "Sure I like big men, Sam, but if that's all I wanted, I'd have my pick of burly hunters."  
  
She worked her hand over him and Sam dropped his head back against the wall. It felt... different having someone else touch him there. He'd jacked off plenty of times, almost daily. Hell, he'd turned it into a goddamned art form, done in under five minutes, because that was all the time he had in the shower before someone got suspicious. Kay raked her finger nails over him and even through his jeans it was enough to nearly make him cum.  
  
"That's not what I want, though. I like a man with a brain, Sam."  
  
"Then why not... ng... Ash." Stupid mouth! Sam grit his teeth to keep anything else from coming out. Seriously, he was a short step away from getting a hand job and he was questioning it?  
  
Kay chuckled in his ear, "God point. Let's amend that to smart and capable. Most days Ash has a hard time telling his ass from his face. I'd prefer someone who'll be alive come next year. Know what I mean?"  
  
She punctuated her words by thumbing the button open and unzipping his jeans. Sam nodded hastily to her question. Although, actually, he had no fucking clue what she meant, because all the blood had traveled south and the only thought he could manage was ‘fuck.' More as a curse word than a realization of what was to come, but he'd deal with that later when there wasn't a hand down his boxers.  
  
Sam's legs very nearly gave out and he was grateful that he was back against the wall or he might have fallen on his ass the minute her warm fingers wrapped fully around him.  
  
"Impressive, Sammy. You know what to do with it?"  
  
He wanted to say something smooth, like Dean would. Something like ‘why don't you lay back and let me show you?' Except, the only thing he could get out of his mouth was, "Um... yeah?"  
  
"Right." She removed her hand entirely and Sam fought the urge to beg her to put it back. "Tell you what? How about we get this part of it over nice and quick and then we slow down and do it again?"  
  
"Again?" He really wished his voice would stop choking back.  
  
"Yeah, again." She pushed his jeans down his hips and knelt on the ground. Sam only had about two seconds to realize what she was going to do before her lips were around the head of his cock and, just like that, he came, legs giving out under him.  
  
Jesus fucking Christ. His first thought, when he'd recovered enough to think, was ‘so this is why people do that.' He'd wondered, really, because it sounded like it might feel good, but he kept thinking of Dean's face when he'd come back from every trick he'd turned. He saw that stone mask and the way Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and spit on the ground like he was trying to get rid of something dirty and he'd thought nothing could be worth that.  
  
It wasn't, really, because he wasn't going to go out and pay someone to do it, but if someone were willing? Well, that was another matter all together.  
  
"You with me, sport?"  
  
He blinked and realized that Kay was staring at him. She licked her lower lip and his breath caught in his throat, his cock giving a half interested twitch. "Yeah, I'm, uh... I'm here."  
  
She sat up and leaned forward, kissing him again. Sam opened his mouth for her without thinking and started a little at the bitter taste of his own cum on her tongue. It was... strange, but not bad.  
  
Pulling back, she took his hand, putting it under her shirt to cup her breast. "Good, ‘cause we've just gotten started."  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
Brandon had left ten minutes ago, thank god, and Dean had been all but ignoring a very confused Michelle since then. The bar was winding down for the night as anyone from the nearby town dwindled, leaving only the Hunters sitting around the booths, sipping beers. Hunters weren't exactly the noisy sort. They talked among themselves, but they were trained in stealth - at least, the one that lived past their first year - so it was always hushed tones and muted hand gestures.  
  
Other thing about Hunters, were the hours they kept. Any of them worth their salt couldn't get to sleep before three or four in the morning, ‘cause they were used to working nights. Which was why Ellen kept the bar open so late. It gave them a place to sit back and wind down until they were ready to drag themselves to the nearest motel and sleep till noon.  
  
Dean was no exception to that. From the minute the sun went down, to nearly straight up three o'clock, the boy was on edge. Not that he let it show. Another trait that Dean had in common with most Hunters was his ability to look absolutely bored with a situation, no matter how jumpy he was. Acting and lying were the most important skills any Hunter could have, right along side knife fighting and precision shooting.  
  
"Hey, Ellen."  
  
Marty was hanging half through the window that separated the kitchen from the bar, looking around nervously. He was a good kid, but a little twitchy. His daddy, like Jo's had been a Hunter, but Marty had never taken to it and maybe it was knowing what was out there and knowing he couldn't protect himself against it, but whatever it was, he was real anxious most of the time. He was a good kid, though, and Ellen had kind of hoped his disinterest in Hunting would rub off on Jo. So far, it was no such luck.  
  
She went over to the window, leaning in, "What is it, sweetie?"  
  
"I noticed the light hadn't gone out in the house and, uh... Well, Ash came in to get something and I asked him and he said Sam hadn't shown up, yet."  
  
Damn kid was probably out behind the weapon's shed again, sulking about Michelle and Dean's inability to just let things ride. Couldn't just let the damn Hunting community think whatever the hell they wanted. No, he had to flirt like a world class Casanova the minute one of his circle came into his line of sight. Then Sam would get pissed off and, honestly, it was a shining testament to Sam's self control that any of those girls walked out of there unscathed.  
  
That, however, was another issue for another time.  
  
She thanked Marty and gave Dean a hand sign that meant she'd be right back. He didn't need to know why. Dean was so overprotective of Sam, it was unhealthy. If she said Sam hadn't made it to the house yet, Dean's first reaction would be to assume something had his brother and charge out the door with his gun cocked and ready to fire at the first thing that moved.  
  
With Dean, it was always better to keep him in the dark until he absolutely needed to know and sometimes even then, you had to re-evaluate what constituted needing to know.  
  
She rounded the corner of the shed, mouth open to admonish Sam for not doing what she'd said... and stopped short as she was greeted with the kind of sight no mother - surrogate or otherwise - wants to see.  
  
Kay - and damn her to hell, because Ellen had been afraid this kind of thing was going to happen for over a year now - was laid out on her back, hands pressed against the shed behind her, back arched, legs spread with her knees hooked around Sam's shoulders. Sam was on his stomach, pants around his knees, and his head buried between Kay's legs.  
  
Before Ellen could stop herself, not that she would have bothered, she yelled, "Samuel Winchester!"  
  
Sam's reaction was immediate. At the sound of Ellen's voice, he grabbed his pants to cover himself, trying to stand up at the same time. It would have been funny if Ellen hadn't been so goddamned furious.  
  
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
Sam flushed bright pink, "I... uh... she... we..."  
  
Kay sat up, not even bothering to reach for the pants laying a few feet away. "Hey, Ellen."  
  
Ellen just about saw red. "Get. Up. Now."  
  
Kay rolled her eyes and grabbed her jeans, dragging them on before she stood. "Now, Ellen, you're getting all bent out of shape over nothing."  
  
"Nothing?" She looked over Sam, who was so far hunched into himself, he looked about half his size. "That's not nothing, Kay. That's sixteen-years-old."  
  
"At sixteen, I was already..."  
  
"Fucking half the debate team, I get that, but you aren't sixteen anymore, you are thirty four and this is _my_ bar and that boy is _my_ responsibility."  
  
Sam slunk back a little, but stopped when Ellen shot him a quick glare. As mad as she was at Kay, Sam had some responsibility in this, too.  
  
"Ellen, come on, it's not that big a deal..."  
  
"Yeah? Well, we'll just see how Dean feels about that."  
  
She hadn't meant to say it, because she actually had no intentions of telling Dean anything. While Sam may have had the self control not to leap over the bar and strangle the tramps Dean flirted with or to hunt down the few he'd actually slept with, Dean did not. If Dean knew Kay had so much as laid a hand on his little brother, he would hunt her down and rip her limb from limb.  
  
Kay blanched. "You wouldn't."  
  
"Wouldn't I?"  
  
Sam looked between the two, practically holding his breath. Kay had turned a funny yellow-white and it occurred to Sam that maybe she was... afraid of Dean? That didn't make any sense, though. She was older, had more training and years under her belt. She could probably fight circles around his brother.  
  
Kay stomped down on the ground in a very unintentionally accurate rendition of the tantrums Sam half remembered throwing when he was seven. "Come on, Ellen!"  
  
Ellen crossed her arms over her chest and Sam knew her well enough to know she was thinking something over. "Or what? You damn well know you deserve it."  
  
"No one deserves that."  
  
There was a long pause, while Ellen seemed to be weighing the pros and cons of apparently sicking Dean on Kay and Kay was eyeing Ellen, trying to decide if the woman was serious. Sam couldn't quite wrap his head around it, because, sure, Dean was protective, but he wasn't that bad.  
  
Kay shifted on her feet, playing with the waist of her jeans. "Ellen, I'll... fuck, I'll do anything you want, okay?"  
  
"Anything?"  
  
She rolled her eyes and held her palms up in surrender. "Yes, anything. I'll even join your goddamned Armada if that's what it takes."  
  
Ellen raised an amused eyebrow, "Armada?"  
  
"That's what Gordon calls it." Kay dropped her hands to her sides. "At least, that's what he calls it when he's butt ass drunk and you're nowhere around."  
  
Sam watched them warily through his bangs as they faced off. Finally, Ellen said, "All right, but if you've been talking to Gordon, you know the rules."  
  
"Right. You call, I heel." Ellen nodded her approval and Kay rolled her eyes. The silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Sam was starting to think now would be a good time for him to sneak off to bed before Ellen could yell at him, but then Kay opened her mouth. "You know, if I'm already in this deep, you think maybe you could leave us alone so we could..."  
  
Ellen didn't have to say anything. Her frown deepened, her eyes narrowing and Kay mumbled to herself, stomping off, but keeping a wide berth between herself and Ellen. The back door of the Roadhouse squeaked open and slammed shut, bouncing on its hinges before closing with a rattle.  
  
As soon as it was finished, Ellen turned on him and for a minute, Sam considered running. He really did, because he'd never seen Ellen quite that pissed off before, but he didn't actually have anywhere to go.  
  
"Samuel Winchester, what the hell were you thinking?"  
  
Sam shrugged, ringing his hands helplessly in front of him. "I dunno. She asked and... it didn't seem like a _bad_ idea."  
  
"Did it seem like a _good_ one?" To Sam's second shrug, she dropped her arms, putting her hands on her hips expectantly. "Did you even think about it?"  
  
After a minute, he shook his head. He really hadn't and maybe he should have, but... well, it was just sex. Dean did it all the time. Okay, maybe not all the time, but sometimes. Every now and then. Actually, now that he thought about it, for all his flirting, Dean rarely followed through.  
  
The first inklings of shame crept over Sam and he bowed his head. "Sorry, Aunt Ellen."  
  
Ellen's face softened and she stepped forward, putting a hand on his shoulder. It was really disconcerting to be taller than her, especially when she had the power to make him feel so incredibly small. "I'm not mad at you for wanting to experiment, Sam. That's what kids your age do, but I'd just rather you do it with other kids your own age and don't push yourself too hard or too fast. Growing up's not a race."  
  
Sam nodded, his head still down.  
  
"And, for the love of god, Sam, don't do it behind the weapon's shed. With Dean I just figured it was bad judgment, but now I'm beginning to suspect it's genetic. The next time I find a Winchester fornicating in the goddamned open like that, I am going to ground you both for a year."  
  
The blush moved from his ears to down his neck and over his cheeks and he suppressed a nervous laugh. It shouldn't have been funny, but it kind of was. He should have known better, seeing as Dean and Jo had been caught some three times in this same spot while they were dating. Actually, Sam kind of suspected getting caught might have been the point, because Dean always looked far too relieved once Jo was nowhere in sight.  
  
Ellen put her arm around his shoulder and steered him towards the house. "Although, you know, some good did come out of this. I got another soldier for the cause of keeping Dean from falling into an early grave."  
  
Sam did laugh then, a smile spreading wide across his face. He was pretty sure that, left to his own devices, Dean could handle himself, but it was nice to know there was a safety net. Nicer still, to know that he'd had a hand in building it.


	2. Chapter 2

Jeffrey sat across from Sam, nursing his drink and mumbling to himself every now and then in a voice so slurred and low that Sam couldn't make it out. That was Jeffrey, though. He came to the Roadhouse once every other month, got piss drunk, made Sam sit with him, and mumbled to himself for an hour or two before patting Sam on the head and stumbling out to sleep it off in his truck.  
  
It had started back when Sam had first come to the Roadhouse, though Ellen had run interference for the first few months, until Sam was more settled in and less skittish around strangers. It wasn't that Jeffrey was a bad person - he was kind of nice, even when he was drunk - it was just that it was strange and sort of familiar in an offsetting way that Sam couldn't pin.  
  
Ellen had said that Jeffrey was the cousin and partner of a Hunter named Joe. At first, Sam hadn't understood why that mattered, then he'd realized why Jeffrey looked so familiar. Joe was the Hunter that Sam had been locked in the cage with, back when the vampires had him - back when he was ten.  
  
Jeffrey didn't bring it up, but Sam figured he must have told Ellen at least some of it, because she insisted that Sam sit there every time Jeffrey came in asking about him. Of course, since Jeffrey never spoke about it, he didn't know what the man knew or how. Of course, he also wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know. He looked back at Ellen and she raised an eyebrow, daring him to complain. Holding in a sigh, he turned back at Jeffrey, who had been going on now for maybe an hour and fifteen.  
  
Jeffrey shook his head, "You look good."  
  
The few rare occasions that the man actually spoke to Sam, Sam was usually at a loss for words. This was no exception. "Thanks?"  
  
Tipping his mug back, Jeffrey emptied it and slammed it back down. "Walk me to my truck."  
  
"Sure." Dean was watching them closely and when Sam stood up with Jeffrey, he could see his brother tensing out of the corner of his eye, but waved him back.  
  
Kay had jokingly called Dean Sam's attack dog and it wasn't that far off from the truth. A word or a gesture and Dean would either come running or sit and stay. Mostly. Sometimes, Dean didn't listen to a damn thing Sam said, because he insisted that he was older and that meant he knew what was best for Sam. Which was why Sam had yet to tell Dean what had happened with Kay almost a year ago. That and, after carefully evaluating Dean's reaction to just about everything, he figured Kay was kind of right - no one deserved that.  
  
Except for Tiffany Wilcox, the skank from their high school that had gotten Sam in trouble so he'd have detention on a Friday night, because she'd figured out that he was sabotaging her and Dean's dates. She'd totally deserved it.  
  
Jeffrey stopped at his truck, leaning against the door and Sam looked around the parking lot self-consciously. It was rounding on eleven on a Saturday and it was dark, but there were cars parked everywhere, people coming in and out constantly. Technically, they weren't alone, but it felt like they were.  
  
Sam shifted on his feet. "So..."  
  
"You're seventeen now, right?"  
  
"Um..." Sam looked around at nothing in particular, biting at his lip before answer. "Yeah, few months ago."  
  
Jeffrey nodded to himself. "You're old enough. Can't say Joe would have agreed - man was always saying no one's old enough for the kinds of things we knew - but you? You've pretty much always known, haven't you?"  
  
Rubbing the back of his head, Sam shrugged. Dean hadn't told him until he was six or seven, but by then he'd kind of already known, at least on some level. "Yeah, I guess."  
  
"Hm. Joe would have said that was a tragedy."  
  
Sam found himself laughing a little at that and blushed under Jeffrey's questioning gaze. "I was just thinking... well, when I was little, I asked a lot of questions and Dean was always accusing me of trying to grow up too fast. He would have liked Joe."  
  
"I've watched Dean, too, you know. I think Joe would have liked him, too." They stood there silently for a while and Sam got the impression Jeffrey was building up to something, taking long deep breathes to steal himself for what he was about to say, but he couldn't imagine what it was or what could be so hard about it.  
  
Finally, Jeffrey spoke and if his voice shook a little, Sam pretended not to notice. "We'd been chasin' those vampires for months, picking 'em off whenever we could, taking our time so they wouldn't notice we were there. We just weren't careful enough. I got a call from someone that needed my help and Joe said he'd tag along with the vamps. Wouldn't do anything 'till I got back, just make sure we didn't lose 'em."  
  
"They said they took him right after I left, when I was less than two miles out of town. I know vampires lie a lot, but you can tell when they're telling the truth. I can't explain it, it just..."  
  
"You don't have to," Sam interrupted him, unconsciously rubbing the inside of his arm.  
  
Jeffrey looked at Sam's arm and huffed a little. "Right. Well, anyway, I got back to town a week later and he wasn't there. I called his cell phone, but it didn't even ring. I asked around, but everyone thought we'd left together. Then they started calling."  
  
Sam tightened his grip around his arm to keep himself from shaking.  
  
"They tortured him for weeks. Calling me every so often so I could hear him screaming. That first call, though, he said something. He yelled, 'find the boys', before they cut him off. It took some doing, but your brother apparently went to the police when you first went missing and he... well, I know all about what he did otherwise - and, before you ask, I've never told anyone and I don't intend to."  
  
"If you..." Sam was fighting the urge to run. He knew Dean had told Ellen, but he hadn't been there and she'd never brought it up again. Jeffrey saying he knew made him feel ten years old again, scared and small and wanted nothing more than to have his brother there to protect him. "I mean, why are you telling me this?"  
  
Jeffrey looked down before lifting his gaze to meet Sam's eyes. "Because I want to tell you about him. Not right now, maybe next time I come down, but I wanted you to understand why."  
  
After a minute, Sam nodded, a smile finding its way onto his face. He could handle that. "Yeah, okay, next time, then."  
  
Jeffrey clapped him on the shoulder and clambered into his truck, falling into the front seat and Sam turned around, going back into the Roadhouse, where Ellen would tell him to go on to bed and then later Dean would question him about what Jeffrey and he had talked about. Or maybe he'd pretend to be asleep, because he wasn't sure he wanted to tell Dean anything.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Sam stared across his bed at Dean, asleep on his stomach with one arm under his pillow, the other hanging limply off the bed. At some point in the night, Dean had kicked the covers down, exposing his back and the top of his boxers. Usually Dean slept in a shirt, but last night the heat had been sweltering and he hadn't bothered to put anything on before throwing himself down on the bed.  
  
Biting his lip, Sam gazed over the well-muscled curve of Dean's back, down to the dip just above his ass. Curling up a little more, Sam put his hand over his hardening cock, willing it to stay down.  
  
Dean took a deep heavy breath that ended in a soft moan and shifted so he was facing Sam and that was not helping the situation. Not when Dean's mouth was parted and his lips were full and red from where he'd bitten them through the night and his features, usually hard and wary, were soft and relaxed, his dark lashes fluttering against his cheek.  
  
Almost involuntarily, Sam pressed his palm more firmly against his erection, moving minutely over it. Dean didn't stir and Sam bit his lip, slowly moving his hand inside his shorts and wrapping his fingers around himself. He half expected Dean to wake up as he moved his hand over his cock; telling himself that was why he was watching his brother - didn't want to get caught masturbating, Dean was a light sleeper.  
  
Except Dean's arm was hanging half off the bed and even lax with sleep, the muscles were defined and Dean's tongue swept over his lip, a soft groan filling the room, covering the sound of Sam's hitched breathing as he came, white semen spilling over his hand and onto the sheets.  
  
Oh god. Sam threw the covers back, heedless of the fact that the moment his feet touched the floor, Dean's eyes opened, or that by the time he made it to the door, Dean was sitting up in bed. He completely ignored the call of, "Sammy, what's wrong?" in favor of throwing himself through the open door and swerving into the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him.  
  
Oh god, what the hell had he just done?  
  
Dean knocked on the door. "Sammy, you okay in there?"  
  
Sam slid to the ground, staring forward blankly. "I'm fine, Dean." His voice was shaking, but he couldn't bring himself to really care. All he could think about was Dean's mouth and how it was Dean's tongue pressing against those full lips that had made him come. Hell, he hadn't even been hard when he'd first woken up, it was looking at Dean's body, soaking in all those muscles and hard lines that had got him going in the first place and that was... that was just _wrong_ and not just because Dean was his brother, but because Dean was a _guy_.  
  
"Are you sick?"  
  
"No!" Yes, but not in the way Dean thought. Did that mean he was gay? He liked girls well enough, or he thought he did. He'd had girlfriends, four or five, actually, and it may never have lasted very long, but he'd had sex - more than once.  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Dean!" _Just go away, because I can still see your lips in the back on my mind and I can't help thinking about what they'd feel like wrapped around my cock and then I see your face when you'd been out making money and you were so disgusted and I'm disgusting and..._  
  
"Fine, okay, I'll leave you alone."  
  
Dean's feet thudded on the wood floor, out into the house and then faded onto the linoleum floors of the kitchen. Sam didn't move, just listened to the faint sound of the pantry opening and tins being pushed around while Dean scavenged for something he didn't have to cook and he tried to convince himself that it was okay, even if he didn't believe it.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
The next time Jeffrey came in, Sam took him his beer and sat with him without waiting to be called over. It had only been a month since he'd last seen him, but he'd found that he was pretty much overwhelmed with curiosity over what Jeffrey was planning to tell him. Turned out it was pretty interesting too. It was interesting the next month and then two weeks after that.  
  
Jeffrey stayed longer, talked longer, and the more he talked, the more comfortable he looked about it, which was good, because Sam liked listening to him. He reminded Sam a lot of their father. Not so much in the way he looked, but in his voice and mannerisms. He didn't pull any punches, told Sam all the gritty, gory details of his and Joe's first hunt, the first time they'd been caught, how they'd escaped and how they'd one time planned it all just to get on the inside, which turned out to be a bad idea. Not that it stopped them from doing it all over again a few years down the road.  
  
"You know, kid, some lessons, just need to be relearned every so often."  
  
Sam chuckled and sipped his water, thinking that was probably true, because May from school was checking out Dean's ass. Last time she'd done that, Sam'd had to spread a rumor that she'd slept with some trucker at the Roadhouse, which hadn't been true, but still got her grounded for three months. Whether she knew Sam had done it or not, she'd still stayed away for the last year and even her recent patronage hadn't included ogling his brother. Until now. So, yeah, maybe Jeffrey was right - some lessons needed relearning.  
  
"Hey, kid!"  
  
Looking over, Sam fought an embarrassed blush as he realized he hadn't heard a word Jeffrey had just said. "Sorry."  
  
Jeffrey nodded towards May and Sam made a point of following his gaze, just so he could glare at her some more. "What'd she do?"  
  
After a minute, Sam forced himself to look away and shrugged, putting down his empty glass and watching the ice roll around inside. "Nothing." Jeffrey frowned and Sam knew he wasn't buying it. Hell, the man had told him so many things, maybe he deserved one in return. Besides, it wasn't like Sam had anyone else to talk to about it. "She stares at Dean a lot, when he isn't looking."  
  
"Dean don't seem to mind."  
  
Sam's head whipped around so hard his neck popped, and Jeffrey was right. Dean was winking at May from where he was picking beers up at the bar. She winked back and damnit, that was it! This time it was going to be an orgy with three, no, _four_ sweaty, pock-marked, grizzled men in the back of a manure truck.  
  
He stabbed the ice vindictively, trying to decide if he should throw in a lesbian, just for good measure.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
When he looked up this time, Jeffrey was actually grinning, which surprised him, because Jeffrey didn't do a lot of grinning. In fact, the closest he'd ever come to a smile before was not frowning. "Yeah, I'm fine."  
  
"Is she that bad?"  
  
He used the question as an excuse to look over again and stabbed his straw into his glass. Dean had gone over and he was talking to her, lips curled in that half smile that he always used when he was trying to impress the girls. He only did it when there were other hunters around, or at least, ones that had known their dad. Finally tearing himself away, he looked back at Jeffrey, "Maybe. I don't know. Just something about her."  
  
"She isn't good enough for Dean?"  
  
He nodded, because Kay had given him that excuse a year ago and it worked well enough. Of course, it wasn't as simple as her not being good enough, because, despite what it might have looked like to everyone else, Dean didn't like it when he had to play up to the girls and even if no one else knew that, Sam did, and that was all that mattered.  
  
Jeffrey sighed, almost wistfully, which was strange coming from a man who had a bowing knife taped to the inside of his leg, and said, "No one was ever good enough for Joe, either."  
  
He stood up after that, patted Sam on the shoulder and walked out. Dean's eyes flitted up for a second, watching Jeffrey walk out the door before glancing back at Sam to make sure he was okay. Sam gave a discrete nod and looked back at his drink, slurping up the melted ice. He'd just remembered that May's parents ran the fund raiser for the church every year. Definitely throwing in the lesbian.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
It didn't occur to him until much later - after May had been grounded for another three months and forced by her parents to see the closest thing to a psychiatrist the town had - to wonder what Jeffrey had meant by that. No one had been good enough for Joe, either? And there had been that little smile he'd had on his face when he said to. Like he knew something he wasn't saying. Like that had meant something else and Sam was supposed to understand it.  
  
Only he didn't and it wasn't until another month and a half that Jeffrey got back to the Roadhouse. By then, he was determined to ask what Jeffrey had meant. Except that the moment he was sitting in front of the guy, he'd lost just about all his nerve and the only thing he'd wound up doing was nursing a Coke and listening to more stories.  
  
"So, we're Huntin' what we think is a vampire. It added up like it should - all the blood drained from the victims, puncture marks on the neck, all the important evidence was there. It was only our fourth, maybe fifth Hunt, so apparently, I hadn't done enough research, 'cause it turned out the damn thing was a ghost. Some girl that'd gotten bit by a vampire and she was out for revenge on every man unlucky enough to wander into the old house she'd died in."  
  
Sam sucked his straw into his mouth and pulled soda through it, letting it fizzle on his tongue.  
  
"Well, you can imagine that's a little awkward. We go blazing in with Silver Bullets and dead man's blood and end up running right through her. Damned if we weren't lucky to get out of there alive. After that, Joe was pretty damn insistent about carrying around a good amount of salt. Just case."  
  
Sam nodded absently.  
  
"Somethin' botherin' you?"  
  
Looking up, Sam swallowed the soda thickly and shrugged, "Not really. Just..." He stopped and licked his lips, looking around to make sure Dean or Ellen or Jo weren't anywhere near. It was a slow enough night and Dean was slacking off at the bar, Jo was trying to talk some Hunters who knew better into a game and Ellen wasn't anywhere to be seen. Good enough. "Last time you said no one was good enough for Joe. What did that mean?"  
  
Jeffrey's eyes narrowed and he leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly to the side as if he were considering Sam. "He was my cousin."  
  
That almost made sense. "Well, yeah, but Dean... I mean, I don't like the girls because of what he... you know, when..." He stammered to a stop, unsure how to proceed. There really wasn't a delicate way of saying that he didn't like girls hitting on Dean because he knew Dean didn't like sex on account of all that prostituting way back when. Especially since Dean had threatened to hang him by his ankles from the roof if he ever breathed a word of it to anyone and Sam knew that wasn't an empty threat because it wouldn't be the first time.  
  
Thankfully, Jeffrey didn't need the explanation. "I get it. You don't like the girls 'cause you don't think Dean does. Not really. And maybe he don't, it's not my place to say, but is it yours?"  
  
Sam tensed, sitting up straighter and tightening his grip on his glass. "I'm his brother."  
  
"And I was Joe's cousin."  
  
It was said with an air of finality, but Sam still didn't understand it. Before he could say anything else, Jeffrey stood up and patted Sam's shoulder before walking out. After several minutes, Sam got up and took his empty glass to the back.  
  
There was a small stack of dishes that needed washing and he considered putting them off, but either way, he'd have to do them. Besides, Dean didn't bother him when he was working - not most of the time, anyway. Turning the water up as hot as it would go, he pulled the yellow gloves on and started in on them.  
  
What was all that supposed to have meant? Was it just that no one was ever good enough for family? He didn't think that was it, because Jo was like family and as long as she wasn't screwing around with Dean, he didn't much care who she shacked up with. Besides, a cousin wasn't the same as a brother and Joe and Jeffrey may have been best friends, but until they'd started Hunting they hadn't lived together. Dean and Sam had been in each other's back pocket for as long as Sam could remember.  
  
He knew he was missing something, but what? What else was there?  
  
The door that separated the kitchen from the bar swung open and Dean came in. "What's eating you?"  
  
Sam didn't bother to look back. "Nothing."  
  
"Nothing, my ass. You've got your brooding eyebrows on."  
  
Sam's frown deepened, "I do not."  
  
"Do too."  
  
"Do not."  
  
"Do too."  
  
"Stop it."  
  
"Not until you tell me what's eating you."  
  
Sam thumbed the faucet to cold and turned around, aiming the water hose at Dean and pulling the trigger. Dean cursed heavily and Sam laughed as his brother danced out of the way. "You think that's funny, do you?"  
  
Shrugging, Sam kept the grin plastered to his face and the hose aimed up, just in case Dean decided to try for revenge. "Maybe."  
  
"Well, I'm glad you're happy, because I don't have anymore clean shirts." Before Sam could say anything else, Dean pulled his shirt up over his head and rang it out. "Tell Ellen I'll be right back and you can explain to her why the bread is soaked through while you're at it."  
  
Shit, he hadn't thought of that. Not that he was really thinking about it now, because Dean was still standing there. Shirtless. His chest hairless and wet and his arm muscles bulging as he tried to get more of the water out of the shirt before he left. Sam's cock gave an interested twitch and as much as he wanted to turn away, he couldn't.  
  
Dean looked up and Sam turned away before he could see the blush that was quickly rising to his cheek. "Sammy, are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah." He took a deep breath and starting scrubbing dried chili off a bowl. "I'm just... worried about a test I've got tomorrow."  
  
"Oh. That all?"  
  
Sam nodded and very nearly flinched when Dean put a hand on his shoulder, "What are you...?"  
  
"Go and study some. I'll take care of this."  
  
He blinked in confusion and shrugged off Dean's hand, trying to ignore that his skin still felt hot where the touch had been. "It's fine, there isn't that much."  
  
"It's a slow night and I can handle this. Besides, do you really want to be here when Fred gets back and sees what you've done to his kitchen?"  
  
Sam cringed, "Not really."  
  
"Go on. I'll see you later."  
  
Without waiting for any more encouragement, he shed the gloves and apron and headed out the back door, waving at Fred who was having a smoke break. He was gonna be pissed.  
  
Ellen was in the house, her feet up on a chair at the breakfast table and her head tilted back. When she saw Sam, she raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Test." He'd decided to stick with the same lie he'd told Dean, because it wasn't really a lie. He did have a test, he just wasn't that worried about it and, anyway, school was the only reason Ellen would let any of them slack off at work. Well, school and illness, but Dean always said it was better not to compound a lie if you could help it.  
  
"Ah, what subject?"  
  
"English." He sat down and put his head on his arms. He could see Dean's naked abdomen in the back of his mind and feel Dean's hand on his shoulder and he wanted more than anything to lock himself in the bathroom and masturbate, but Ellen was there and that might be difficult to explain.  
  
Ellen's stare was like a heat lamp on the back of his neck and he looked up, desperation on his face. "Jeffrey said something and I can't... I don't know what he meant."  
  
She nodded and after a minute, he continued, "He said that no one was ever good enough for Joe and I asked him about it and all he said was that Joe was his cousin, which just made it even more confusing, because I already knew that."  
  
Ellen's face lit up in understanding and she put her feet down. "Sam, sometimes it can get... lonely Hunting."  
  
"I know, but they were always together, so..."  
  
"No, honey," She put a hand on his arm and he frowned. What was she trying to say? "Not everyone has a home to go back to. Not everyone has a wife and kids waiting for them. Most times Hunters don't, because that would mean making themselves vulnerable, and sometimes..."  
  
She bit her lip thoughtfully, which was an odd expression on Ellen. "Sometimes Hunters turn to each other for companionship."  
  
"That's what I just said."  
  
"Not like that, Sam."  
  
Not like that? Then how...?  
  
It was like a light bulb going off in his head. She meant companionship as in... "But... they were cousins!"  
  
"I know and I'm not saying it was right, but I'm not saying it was wrong either, just saying that's what he meant."  
  
"But... I mean, couldn't they have...?" Couldn't they have what? Had sex with random strangers? Paid for it? He frowned and sat back in his chair, letting his arms go limp at his sides. Why would Jeffrey have told him that of all things? Why would he have expected Sam to understand? Unless... and this time it really was a light bulb, because he got it. _Really_ got it.  
  
Ellen stood up and grabbed her denim over-shirt off the back of her chair. "Get some studying done and get to sleep early. I want to hear you made an 'A' on that test."  
  
Sam only half heard her, because he was busy trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together and he didn't like the picture it was presenting. Jeffrey had been saying that he thought Sam liked Dean the way he had liked Joe, which Sam wasn't all that sure wasn't true, except that he wasn't gay. Or, well, he thought he wasn't gay. Maybe it was just Dean.  
  
Not that _that_ was any better, because Dean would never go for it - Sam wasn't even willing to entertain the idea of asking him - but if he didn't, then how was he supposed to figure out whether he was gay or straight or whatever-the-fuck?  
  
Sighing, Sam dropped his head against the back of the chair. Liking Dean wasn't so bad, because it couldn't lead to anything. Being gay, though, was a whole other thing. If he was gay, he might actually have to tell someone. Like Ellen, or even Dean and that was a scary enough thought that he decided to put off thinking about it, at least for now. Maybe forever if he could get away with it.


	3. Chapter 3

He’d been minding his own business - or, well, minding Dean’s, but that was pretty much the same thing. Dean was sitting in the corner of the Roadhouse, talking to Bobby about what was probably a hunt, which Sam should have been angry about, but he was too busy staring at the back of Dean’s sweaty shirt. If he stared hard enough, he could just make out the muscle under it, the ripple of tight definition over Dean’s shoulders and along the tight stretch between his shoulder blades and...  
  
“Whatcha lookin’ at?”  
  
Cursing, Sam jumped and turned, sweeping his foot out low to catch the person behind him in the ankles. His eyes had half a second to register the familiar face before it dropped from view, followed by a few choice curse words of its own. Shit! It was Abel, a Hunter only a year younger than Dean who sometimes stopped by for supplies.  
  
“Jesus, Sam, what the hell?!”  
  
Sam flushed in embarrassment and leaned down to help Abel up. They’d been something close to friends since the first time Abel’s mother had dragged him with her to the Roadhouse all those years back. Mizuki was Asian and it showed in the slant of Abel’s eyes and the cocoa of his skin. His father, Brandon, came through in his slender face and figure and the pale brown of his hair.  
  
Grasping Abel’s arm, he lifted, “Sorry, you surprised me.”  
  
“Remind me never to get you a Christmas present.”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes and went back over to the sink. It was piled high with the mugs and plates that Sam had been ignoring for the past half hour. The Roadhouse had been unusually busy all night. At eleven, it had finally lulled to a slow crawl and when the cook, Fred, had taken a break, Sam had taken it on himself to have one as well.  
  
“So, what were you staring at?” Abel sat on the counter next to the serving station. Fred had ripped him a new one the last time he’d done that and Sam almost considered telling him that Fred was going to be back any minute, but it was kind of a lot of fun watching Fred yell at people, because he was only 5'3, but damn if he wasn’t intimidating when he wanted to be.  
  
Sam shrugged, “Dean’s talking to Bobby. I think it’s a Hunt.”  
  
“Ah, and the feud continues.”  
  
“It’s not a feud.” And it wasn’t. He liked Bobby. He just didn’t like it when Bobby helped put Dean in danger was all.  
  
“You keep telling yourself that.”  
  
Sam pulled on his gloves. “What are you doing here, anyway?”  
  
Abel shrugged, grabbing a dirty dish that Jo passed through the window, “Hey, sweetheart.”  
  
Jo scowled. “Bite me.”  
  
If there was anything Jo hated more than being treated like a kid by her mom, it was being called pet names by guys. Sweetheart was by far the worst and Abel usually called her that just to piss her off. Sometimes Sam thought Dean rubbed off on the guy a little too much.  
  
He turned back to Sam. “We’re running low on supplies. Mom sent me up here to pick up some of the more ‘illusive’ items.” He made finger quotes at the word illusive, which meant he was talking about the less than legal variety. Ellen didn’t like running weapons and she didn’t do it very often, but there were some things Ellen just had more access to and she didn’t mind sharing with some of her closer friends and contacts.  
  
Besides, it didn’t hurt that it helped her make a little extra money to keep them afloat when they had a bad month.  
  
“How long are you planning on staying?”  
  
“Day or two. The shipment isn’t here yet, so it looks like you’re stuck with me for now.”  
  
Abel grabbed another plate as it was thrust through and turned, intending on poking Jo a little more, only to find Ellen and her stern expression staring back, “Hey, Ellen!”  
  
She pursed her lips and pointed in the direction of the back, “You know the rules. Stop distracting the boys and get the hell off Fred’s counter before he sees you.” At the mention of Fred’s name, Abel shoved off and took a look around, just in case he hadn’t been quick enough. “Go wait in the house. Sam’s off shift once that sink is clear and then you two can shoot the shit all you want.”  
  
Sam looked at the pile and regretted slacking off earlier. It would take him half an hour at least.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
By the time Sam finally finished, Abel was sprawled across the sofa, snoring softly against the otherwise dead quiet of the house. He considered waking him up, but he had just driven up there from Alabama, so he probably needed sleep. Then again, if their places were reversed, Abel wouldn’t think twice about dumping a bucket of ice water on him and Sam knew that from experience.  
  
Before Sam could take a step, though, Abel moved. His arms stretched over his head, pulling his shirt up past the waist of his jeans, exposing the hard line of his hipbone and faint trail of hair leading down and Sam’s breath stuck in his throat. One of the best things about living at the Roadhouse was that, besides Dean, the only other man he saw even remotely naked was Ash, who was about as far from sexy as any human being was likely to get. Or, at least, it felt that way to Sam, who’d seen the inside of Ash’s trailer and knew exactly how many times a week the man bothered to bathe.  
  
So ignoring his ‘am I gay’ dilemma had been easy enough. He’d masturbated a few times, thinking about Dean and blaming it on raging hormones or whatever, because without anyone else around, he could safely say Dean was the only guy that made him feel like that, which was okay, because nothing, absolutely nothing was ever going to happen. Ever.  
  
But Abel... he was lean and muscled. Whip skinny, but strong and tall. Not as tall as Sam, maybe, because he’d put on another few inches that year, but at least as tall as Dean. He tried not to let his eyes wander down. Really, really tried, but the sharp definition of washboard abs was just visible under the edge of his pink and grey faded t-shirt. An all too familiar, shameful tingle made him remember where he was, frozen in the middle to the living room, staring at Abel like he was porn. Shit.  
  
Running through the house, he slammed the door to the bathroom, not caring who heard, or if he woke up Abel, because better he woke up from that than woke up to find Sam standing over him with a hard on.  
  
Breathing deeply, he pressed his hand down over his cock, trying to will it down. He thought about Ellen and Ash and Jo and every other non-sexual thought he could muster. He even brought up the memory of two years ago when Dean was teaching him to drive and he accidentally hit old man Berger’s dog and had to take the body to the man’s house. He’d refused to get behind a wheel for two months after that.  
  
Slowly, it wilted and he sighed in relief. Okay, one disaster averted, one to go. Well, more than one if he was being honest with himself, which he wasn’t right now.  
  
Waiting another few minutes, he peaked back in the living room. Abel was still asleep on the sofa. Good, maybe this was all just because he was tired. Maybe if he got some sleep he’d be able to think more clearly in the morning. Maybe... yeah, and maybe Dean was right and he was gonna wake up with a vagina because he couldn’t stop acting like such a friggin’ chick all the damn time.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
He’d managed to bury his head in the possibly gay sand for two whole, blissful, denial filled months and now it had come back to bite him in the ass.  
  
Abel was up and sitting at the breakfast table drinking coffee when Sam came stumbling in the next morning. He sat down for a few minutes, staring numbly, because apparently, the man had decided shirtless was a good look at nine in the morning on a Saturday.  
  
Standing back up, Sam walked out of the kitchen without a word and went to the bathroom for a shower. The fact that he was going to masturbate in the shower was entirely coincidental. By the time he came out, he was feeling much more awake and refreshed. Really, this wasn’t so bad. Abel was only going to be there for a few days and then he could go back to pretending the problem didn’t exist.  
  
To make things even better, Abel had put his shirt on and Sam could eat breakfast without having to stare at his nipples.  
  
Jo stirred before Dean, coming in only long enough to get water before going back to bed. Abel didn’t say anything to her, which was probably wise, because last time he’d been there, he’d made the mistake of teasing her before she was fully awake and ended up with a pan thrown at his head.  
  
They both waited until her door was closed before relaxing into their chairs. Abel grinned at him and Sam tried very hard not blush. He had a nice grin, warm and mischievous at the same time, with one corner of his mouth and one eyebrow just a little higher than the other. “Wanna go watch tv before the princess wakes up?”  
  
He meant Dean. About the time Abel picked up teasing Jo from Dean, he decided teasing Dean was even more fun, because, whereas Jo resorted to violence, Dean turned bright shades of red and mumbled under his breath for half an hour. There really was nothing Abel liked more than to play How-Red-Can-Dean-Get. Sam had been kinda pissed about it at first - right up until Dean started the prank wars back up again.  
  
There wasn’t much on at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, but Abel managed to find the only thing that could make Sam more uncomfortable than sitting on a couch with a man that gave him an erection. Soap Operas. Sam didn’t do Soap Operas the way Dean didn’t do Opera, which was to say, he watched them whenever he thought no one was looking or he’d checked every other channel and could safely pretend there was nothing else on.  
  
So, when Abel grunted and stopped flipping at ‘Days Of Our Lives,’ it was all Sam could do to pretend he was reading and no avidly watching to see who was sleeping with Eric Brady II this week. Hm, still Greta apparently, which was unfortunate, because he could do so much better. Sam stopped that thought and went back to his book, hoping Abel hadn’t noticed him watching...  
  
“I saw that.”  
  
Shit. “You put it on.”  
  
“To see if you’d watch.”  
  
Sam looked over, but Abel was smiling in that way that said he was trying to get a rise out of Sam and it had worked. Double shit. “Yeah, well, didn’t see you turning away.”  
  
Abel raised his eyebrows, “So, you were watching _me_ then?”  
  
Trying to keep the heat from his cheeks, Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his book. A moment later, a hand poked his arm. “Sam.”  
  
Don’t look. Don’t look.  
  
Another poke, this one harder. “Sammy.”  
  
It’s a trap. It was always a trap.  
  
This time the finger pressed in hard enough to bruise. “Sammy!”  
  
Finally he looked up and Abel’s toothy, shit-eating grin immediately told Sam he shouldn’t have. “You like me, don’t you?”  
  
Sam rolled his eyes again, because it was all he could think to do. “Whatever.”  
  
“Come on, admit it. You like me.”  
  
“I don’t like you.”  
  
“You like to watch me.”  
  
Abel leaned closer and Sam tried to push him away. “Quit it.”  
  
“You like to touch me.”  
  
“I said, quit it.” Abel poked him low in his side and Sam jerked away, keenly aware that he was ticklish when he was nervous and nervous was just the tip of the iceberg right now.  
  
He was too busy trying to disappear into his book to notice Abel reaching out with both hands until it was too late. Fingers dug into his sides and he kicked out, twisting around to try and get away. “Stop it!”  
  
Abel pinched his sides ruthlessly and Sam couldn’t help laughing as he moved convulsively to try and get the upper hand. If he could get his feet under Abel, he could push him away, but Abel knew better, because he was just as well trained as Sam and he’d been at it a hell of a lot longer.  
  
They struggled for a minute, Abel laughing manically and Sam jerking around, unable to catch his breath, let alone wiggle free and really, the only way this was going to stop was if Abel decided to be merciful before Sam pissed himself.  
  
Finally, Sam managed to wedge his foot under Abel’s hip and suddenly, Abel wasn’t tickling him anymore. In fact, Abel wasn’t moving at all and it took Sam a moment before he realized that his foot was pressed against a very obvious erection.  
  
Oh.  
  
He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Abel was looking pale and staring at Sam as if he expected him to jump and run, because for all his joking, he apparently hadn’t actually thought Sam was watching him that way. Okay, this could go one of two ways. Sam could either laugh and pull away, sweep it under the rug and never talk about it again, or…  
  
Without giving himself a chance to back out, he moved his foot, purposeful rubbing it against Abel’s hard on, never taking his eyes off Abel’s face so that he wouldn’t miss the reaction. Good or bad, which would it be? For about the longest second Sam had ever held his breath through, he couldn’t tell.  
  
Just when Sam was thinking that maybe he’d overplayed his hand - maybe Abel was just hard because they’d been wrestling and not because… well, because of other things - Abel dove forward, pressing his lips to Sam’s with a kind of blind determination that mirrored how Sam was feeling right about then.  
  
Before Sam could respond, though, a door creaked open and they pulled apart, practically flying to opposite ends of the couch in their desperate attempt to put as much distance between themselves as they could.  
  
A moment later, Dean stumbled into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes and scowling. “What the hell, you two?”  
  
Sam wasn’t sure what to say, but thankfully, Abel was as quick on the draw as ever. “Did we interrupt your beauty sleep?”  
  
Dean grumbled, but didn’t say anything else as he thumped his way into the kitchen in search of coffee. Sam sighed heavily in relief and melted back into the sofa. He mouthed, “thanks” at Abel, who winks and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Sam had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything in response and he was still pink when Dean came back in, carrying a cup of cold coffee, because first thing in the morning, Dean didn’t care what temperature his caffeine was.  
  
“So, Abel, what brings you here?”  
  
Abel shrugged, “Usual.”  
  
“How long you staying?”  
  
“Till the shipment gets here. Ellen said in a day or two.”  
  
"Hm." Dean leaned against the wall, gulping down half the mug and sighing happily. “You up for sparring?”  
  
Abel grinned, “When am I not up for kicking your ass?”  
  
“You wish, errand boy. I’ll get dressed and meet you out front.” With that, he turned and walked back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.  
  
Sam glanced back over at Abel, who was still grinning. He put a finger to his lips and said, “sh,” before leaning over and kissing Sam quickly on the lips. Without another word, he got up and walked out the front door.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Sam spent the rest of the morning trying to ignore Abel. Well, Abel and Dean, because while he was helping Ellen by taking out the trash, he could hear the two of them grunting while they spared and very nearly had to choose between running back to the house for five minutes in the bathroom or explaining to Ellen why he found taking out the trash so exciting.  
  
Then, as if God himself were trying to prove a point, they felt the need to strip off their shirts before coming in for drinks. It being barely noon, there were no customers, so Ellen decided to let them get away with it and Sam was forced to give beers to two sweaty, half naked men with well defined abs and low slung jeans.  
  
After that, he did excuse himself for five minutes and he kind of hated himself while he did it, but at least afterwards he was too tired to get it up again immediately and by the time he probably could have, Ellen was kicking them out the back door, telling them to “Stop stinking up the place and, Dean, you’d better be back here in half an hour or I’m sending Ash out to get you!”  
  
Abel got back before Dean, but that was okay because Jo had shown up after they left and was helping Sam with the prep work in the kitchen. Abel wouldn’t risk coming in and being asked to help. Still, Sam snuck glances at him out the pass through whenever it was safe and one time, Abel caught him at it and winked back, with the same grin he’d used just before kissing Sam, which had led to this conversation with Jo.  
  
“Sam, are you feeling okay?”  
  
“I’m fine.”  
  
“You look flushed.”  
  
“I said I’m fine.”  
  
“Mom, come here, I think Sam is coming down with something!”  
  
“I said I was fine!”  
  
“All right, god, I was just trying to help.”  
  
By the time the first customers arrived and Sam could just breathe, he felt like he’d been running a marathon. He was tired and heavy and wanted nothing more than to go back to the house and sleep for the rest of the day. He looked at his watch groaning. It was only one thirty. He still had a long day to go.  
  
Ellen popped her head in through the swinging door, “Sam, honey, I need your help.”  
  
He dropped the wash rag, giving Fred an apologetic shrug before following Ellen out back, more than eager to get out and do something. Unfortunately, that something was about six crates of illegal whats-its and Abel was standing next to them.  
  
“We got that shipment in, I need you to help Abel get them into the weapon’s shed and make sure everything’s accounted for.”  
  
He nodded and waited for her to leave before turning around, only to find himself staring at Abel, who, for reasons he had yet to discern, had taken his shirt back off. Oh, hell, this wasn’t working. None of this was working. It was one thing to pretend he might not be gay when the only person he was attracted to was decidedly unavailable _ever_ , it was another when he was standing alone with a man he thought he was maybe very much attracted to and who had, just a few short hours ago, kissed him, so there really was no question as to whether said person was attracted to him.  
  
Deciding work was the best way to take his mind off the subject, he grabbed one of the crates and lifted it with a strained grunt. Great, he would have grabbed one of the heavier ones. Abel ran over and grabbed one end, taking up half the weight and they lifted it into Ellen’s pickup, which had been parked nearby.  
  
Neither of them said anything as they finished loading the crates, or while Sam drove them the last few yards and backed the truck up to the shed. Abel didn’t even say anything as they unloaded the first crate and set it on the floor. He also didn’t say anything when he took Sam by the shoulders, pushing him up against the wall and kissing him, mashing his teeth against Sam’s lower lip hard enough that he tasted blood.  
  
Sam didn’t say anything, either, because there really wasn’t anything to say. Besides, it would have been hard to talk with Abel’s tongue in his mouth. He wasn’t sure what was expected of him — was he supposed to be the top or the bottom or did it even matter at this point? He settled on wrapping his arms around Abel’s back, running hands over the smooth skin, taught muscles and jutting shoulder blades.  
  
If he’d had any doubt as to his feeling towards the same sex, they were dashed when Abel pressed his cock against Sam’s and Sam thought he was gonna cum from just that. Okay, gay then, or, well, bi, though mostly gay at the moment. Moving his hands down, he fit them over Abel’s ass cheeks and squeezed, enjoying Abel’s deep moan of appreciation.  
  
Abel slid his hands under Sam’s shirt, resting them against the plateau of Sam’s stomach and Sam couldn’t hold back his own moan. This was good, this was really good. Hell, this was better than Kay blowing him, because back then he’d been too surprised to really enjoy it.  
  
Pulling away, Abel bit at the side of Sam’s neck and he had to grit his teeth as shocks of electric pleasure shot to his cock, making him light headed. “Hey, Sam.”  
  
“Hm?” He didn’t want to open his mouth for fear that he’d do something undignified, like squeak.  
  
“You ever done this before?”  
  
“This exactly?” His voice rose embarrassingly high as Abel undid his jeans and shoved a hand down his pants.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Then no, but I’ve really…” he bit his lip hard as Abel stroked him, “thought about it. A lot.”  
  
Abel worked his hand faster and Sam fumbled with Abel’s buckle and jeans before finally managing to get his own hand down the man’s pants. It was strange holding another man’s cock. The weight of it was different. Abel was thinner around and perhaps a little shorter than Sam, but by no means small. The idea of having that put anywhere near his ass was intimidating to say the least.  
  
“What have you thought about, Sam?”  
  
Sam closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, trying to form coherent thoughts. “Just… you know. God, I can’t think like this.”  
  
Abel chuckled, “That’s good.” His free hand took the back of Sam’s head, pulling it down and they were kissing again, deep and hard and desperate and Sam saw white as he came.  
  
As soon as he’d come back to himself, he realized Abel was still rock hard in his hand and he tightened his grip, working Abel harder. A moment later, Abel dropped his head against Sam’s shoulder and moaned deeply. Thick cum coated Sam’s hand in the next instant and it was strange to know it wasn’t his, but not entirely unpleasant. Actually, the idea was pretty damn pleasant. Pleasant enough to make him half hard again, which was saying something considering he’d jerked off two other times that day.  
  
They stayed like that for what felt like several minutes, catching their breath. As he came down from the highs of his orgasm, guilt settled in the pit of Sam’s stomach. He knew it wasn’t rational, but somehow liking men felt like a betrayal — like Dean would somehow find him disgusting after this. Part of him knew Dean could never hate him, not really. There was a connection between the two of them that went beyond the usual sibling bonds and nothing Sam could ever do would change that, but still…  
  
“Hey, Sam?”  
  
Sam blinked and Abel was staring at him, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lips. Blushing, Sam pulled his hand out of Abel’s pants, wiping it on his jeans and returned the grin, “Hey.”  
  
It got quiet again. Sam was trying to press down the guilt, suppress it, because it wouldn’t do any good to dwell on it right now and Abel was just staring and smirking, like he knew what Sam was thinking, even if he didn’t.  
  
Then the shed door opened.  
  
“Sam, make sure and double check the Hail Mary Hand Grenades. This says there are…”  
  
Ellen looked up from the invoice and stopped, staring at the two them. They’d jumped apart the minute the door opened, but Abel was still busy zipping his pants and Sam was wiping his hand more vigorously on his jeans, just in case.  
  
After several seconds of silence - in which Sam realized his pants were still unbuttoned and Abel decided the floor was the most interesting thing ever — Ellen slammed the invoice on the packing crate. Sam jumped, Abel flinched, but neither of them said anything.  
  
“Samuel Winchester, what do you have to say for yourself?”  
  
Sam thought of everything he could say.  
  
‘I’m almost eighteen.’  
  
‘I started it.’  
  
‘This isn’t what it looks like.’  
  
What came out was, “At least it was inside this time.”  
  
Abel looked over at him, “This time? How many men you drag out here?”  
  
“I told you, I’ve never done this before. Kay jumped me.”  
  
“When?!”  
  
“Year ago.”  
  
Ellen coughed before Abel could ask anything else, which was a huge relief, because Sam really didn’t want to keep explaining how he was apparently turning into the Roadhouse slut.  
  
“Are you two finished?” Sam and Abel both nodded. “Good, let’s start with you, Abel. That isn’t legal for two more months. You want to come back in two months, you two can have sex six ways to Sunday and it’s none of my business. Until then, you don’t lay one more finger on him, you got that?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am.”  
  
Sam wanted to say that was unfair. Dean and Jo’d had sex before Jo turned eighteen, but somehow he didn’t think that would help his cause.  
  
“Now, am I right in assuming your parents don’t know anything about this?” Bringing up Abel’s parents was low, even for Ellen. Mizuki and Brandon were hard-core, bible thumping Christians from the back woods of Alabama. Most Hunters didn’t mind because, bible-thumping or not, they had the best stocked armory in the state.  
  
Still, there wasn’t a Hunter they hadn’t encountered that enjoyed listening to them preach for three hours, which was what they did if they found out exactly what sins you’d committed since the last time they saw you. If Mizuki and Brandon found out their son was gay, there was no telling how many hours it would take for them to consider his penance paid - probably never, which was why Sam couldn’t stop himself from yelling, “Ellen!”  
  
Ellen raised a finger at Sam, a clear, ‘shut up,’ and Sam wanted to protest, but he couldn’t think of anything to say, so he closed his mouth.  
  
Abel had gone ghostly white at the mention of his parents, although he did manage to keep his voice steady. “No, they don’t and I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.”  
  
“All right. Now, why don’t you go help Dean and Jo while I have a word with Sam?” Abel hesitated. “If you really want to stay, there are some bathrooms that need cleaning.”  
  
Throwing Sam an apologetic flinch, Abel left and Sam couldn’t really blame him. No one wanted bathroom duty at the Roadhouse. Alone with Ellen, Sam was having flashbacks to the time he’s been caught with Kay. If that had been embarrassing, this was mortifying. He was bright red and if there had been a hole he could crawl into, he would have gladly done so.  
  
There wasn’t any hole though, there was only Ellen staring him down with her lips pursed and her arms crossed too firmly over her chest. “Care to tell me what you were thinking this time?”  
  
Sam flinched. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one having déjà vu. “Not really.”  
  
“Too bad.”  
  
He bit his lip and sighed. This really couldn’t get any more embarrassing. “I just… I’ve been thinking lately that I might like guys and Abel was… well, interested, so… and it wasn’t like there was anyone else around, because… well, Ash wasn’t an option, so…”  
  
Ellen tried to keep a straight face and she managed right up until he mentioned Ash. Her mouth twitched up and Sam chose that moment to look up. The poor boy was so bright red, he was doing a passable impersonation of a tomato.  
  
Seeing her barely suppressed laughter, though, turned the embarrassment to indignation. “It’s not funny!”  
  
It took her a minute to get the laughter under control because, contrary to what Sam may think, it was funny - maybe not the situation in and of itself, but the look on Sam’s face and his stuttered explanation? She wouldn’t trade that for anything. Stepping forward, she put her arms around him, pulling him into a hug and he reluctantly returned it.  
  
When they parted, he wasn’t nearly so red, and even had a half grin on his face. “It’s still not funny.”  
  
She ruffled his hair. “You keep telling yourself that.”  
  
He pulled away, but didn’t move to straighten his hair. “How much trouble am I in?”  
  
“Bathroom duty tonight and next time you feel like fooling around, you find a room like a normal person.” He flinched, but didn’t object. “When you’re finished with this, get back to the bar. I don’t want you and Abel out of my sights until he leaves tonight. Got it?”  
  
Ellen waited till he’d nodded his compliance before turning to leave. As she headed back to the bar to keep an eye on their guest, she had to admit, this wasn’t exactly the worst thing that could have happened.  
  
Sure, it was entirely unexpected — she thought about all the long looks Sam had been giving Dean when he thought no one was looking — okay, not entirely unexpected, but she honestly hadn’t thought Sam was entertaining the idea of being gay so much as he was entertaining the idea of being into Dean, which might seem like the same thing to anyone who didn’t know those boys.  
  
Sighing, she leaned against the outside of the house and watched Sam unloading another crate. Of all the people he could be experimenting with, Abel was by far the safest. With Abel it wasn’t going to be a one night stand and it wasn’t going to get around. Abel had too much to lose with just his parents involved, never mind the fact that Dean would most likely hunt him down.  
  
She sighed again and crossed her arms over her chest.  
  
What other options did Sam have? She couldn’t think of anyone in town that was openly gay, or even that she suspected might be gay. In a town like theirs, you didn’t go advertising things like that. As far as Hunter’s went… well, most of them were older men, grizzled and dirty from life on the road.  
  
Which left her with another question: What other option did Abel have? Who could he trust not to tell his parents or tell someone who would get it back to his parents?  
  
Cursing under her breath, she stormed into the Roadhouse and stopped at the bar, staring down Abel, who was nursing a beer with a worried pout.  
  
“Get out there and help Sam.” The beer had been halfway to his mouth and he didn’t put it down. Slowly, he opened his mouth, but closed it again. Dropping her voice, she raised her eyebrow, “and for god’s sake, close the door this time.”  
  
He waited all of thirty seconds before running out the door, and she almost missed the stupid grin on his face. Sitting down in his chair, she took his beer and finished it off, keeping half an eye on Dean. She’d have to drag Ash out of his trailer to help tonight, because she wasn’t going to risk Dean wandering off on his own and bumping into something he shouldn’t. She’d gone twenty years without a murder on her property and she wasn’t planning on breaking that streak now.  
  
Dean looked over at her and she pointed at the table he was standing in front of, a clear instruction to get back to work. It was going to be a long night.


End file.
